Her first thought was to confront Cruz with what she had heard. However, it was unlikely he would agree to change his plans, and if he knew she was privy to them, he might take steps to make sure she wasn’t around to interfere with them.

Or she could tell Luke what she had heard. But he might feel compelled to report Cruz to some higher authority. Texas and Mexico were still at war-although all the battles were being fought on paper.

Cruz’s actions could easily be construed as treachery by those Texans who had lobbied so hard for annexation. She didn’t presume to understand why President Jones was presenting such an ultimatum to Mexico. No matter what the Mexican government did now, most Texans would vote for annexation when the issue was presented.

She would simply have to do something herself to thwart the Englishman’s plans. It seemed they would be playing right into the Englishman’s hands if they accepted Luke’s invitation to Three Oaks, but it was important for Tomasita’s sake that they go.

Perhaps she could delay their departure a few days, or maybe even a week. With luck, Beaufort LeFevre would have already made contact with President Jones by the time they arrived.

Now, she just needed to find some reason to keep Cruz involved at Dolorosa.

Sloan pushed herself up onto her feet, brushed herself off, and headed back to the house. For the first time in months, her step was light. Things weren’t settled by a long shot, but she had never felt so much in control of her life.


That night in bed, Cruz said casually, “We have not been able to get much work done in this weather, and it has been a long time since you have seen your father. It has been even longer since he has seen his grandson. How would you like to visit Three Oaks?”

“I guess that would be all right,” Sloan said. “But there are a few things I have to get done here before we can leave.”

“What sort of things?”

“I promised Miguel I would-”

“Anything that Miguel must do, he can do without your help.”

Sloan played idly with the dark hair on Cruz’s chest. “But these are projects I suggested. I would like to see them through to the finish. You don’t mind, do you?”

She smiled secretly as she felt Cruz fidgeting. Of course he minded, she thought, but what could he say?

Cruz was thinking about the promise he had made to himself to include Sloan more in his life. He only wished he didn’t have this intrigue with Sir Giles hanging over his head. “Very well, Cebellina. But I will come and help, that you may be done the sooner.”

“Of course,” she agreed with a pleased grin. “I would like that very much.”

Each morning for the next week, Sloan kept Cruz occupied with one project after another. The weather helped by being absolutely awful. It rained, the wind blew, and the storms left more damage that had to be taken care of before they could think about leaving.

She could see Cruz was getting anxious about the delay. But she was as determined to keep him at Dolorosa as he was to leave.

“Miguel promised that today he would put up the corrale in the village,” Sloan said as she dressed in the predawn light.

She could hear the control in Cruz’s voice as he asked, “What corrale?”

“The one for orphaned newborn calves.” Sloan crossed to Cruz and put her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his broad chest. “It’s a perfect solution to a cruel problem. Your vaqueros don’t have the time or patience to bother with calves that have been orphaned before they can survive on their own. If we build a corrale in the village, the vaqueros could leave the newborns there and the women and children could raise them and have their own source of beef.”

“You are giving my longhorns to the pobres?”

“Only the calves that would die if they were left on the range.”

“Those longhorns are wild. What makes you think their calves will accept nourishment from a human hand?”

“Because we’ve already tried it, and it works.”

Cruz shook his head in resignation. “I should have known you would have your arguments well planned. All right. When do we start?”

Sloan hugged him tightly and felt a fierce spiral of need well inside her.

Sensing her tension, Cruz tipped her chin up with his hand and touched his lips to hers.

Her response was instant and powerful. She sought his lips with hers, feeling a hunger that grew even as she fed it. She felt her nipples budding against his hair-rough chest and rubbed against him. She heard him groan and tugged at his ears, pulling his head down to kiss her again.

“We have work to do,” Cruz said, his breath shallow.

“It can get done later,” she whispered. “I… I want you.”

Sloan was almost as surprised as Cruz was by her admission. She had little time to think about what she had said before Cruz swept her into his arms and carried her back to bed.

Their lovemaking had a different tenor, less restrained, a joining of not just bodies but spirits. Demands were made and answered. Prayers were offered and fulfilled. Touching one another became a matter of necessity. Ravenous with hunger, Sloan took what she needed; thirsting, she drank from the cup of love. There was nothing gentle about their mating; it was wild, tumultuous, consuming.

Cruz tried to be gentle, but Sloan would not allow it. Her hands were all over him, touching, embracing, scratching, pressing. Her mouth and tongue and teeth tantalized him, seeking pleasure in the giving of it.

The need to be inside her was excruciating, but she would not let him in. She kissed her way down his belly, laughing deep in her throat as he groaned in pleasure. He grabbed a hank of silky sable hair and pulled her away before she drove him mad.

Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting deep inside.

Sloan felt everything, heard everything, smelled everything with senses that were heightened beyond bearing. She tried to keep Cruz’s tongue in her mouth, but failing that, followed his tongue when he retreated and tasted the roof of his mouth and his tongue and the silky cavern beyond.

His mouth moved to her throat, biting, then soothing. She arched her hips up into his, sheathing him, and felt him harden and swell inside her.

Then his mouth was on her breasts, gentle licks and strong sucks, the contrast exciting beyond belief. She was forced to release her grasp on him as he kissed his way down her stomach to the nest of curls that hid her femininity.

His tongue was gentle and slow, and she had trouble catching her breath.

Sloan writhed helplessly beneath Cruz as he held her up to his mouth and took what he wanted. Her body quivered as his tongue dipped and retreated, teasing and taunting. She gripped the sheets with her fists as she welcomed the waves of satisfaction.

The coarse, grating noise in her throat was bestial, primal, a harsh evocative sound that was echoed by Cruz. Her hips arched upward one last time, all her muscles tensed, her body concentrated on the ecstasy that rolled across her.

Sloan lay enervated after the last spasm had passed, her body trembling as Cruz’s silky hair lay against her belly.

Their loving had been so much more than she had bargained for. She lay still as her body quivered with feeling.

She felt his tender kiss on her belly and lifted a limp hand to lay it on his head and tunnel it through his hair. She turned her head away to hide the tears that welled. “I… this was… wonderful.”

Sloan wanted to give back to Cruz what he had given her. “Come here,” she said.

“Where?”

She smiled. “Here.” She urged him up over her, spreading her thighs to make a cradle for him between them.

In moments he was hard and ready, and she reached down with her hand and slowly guided him inside her. Her smile broadened as she heard his hissing sigh of satisfaction.

Then they lay still.

Sloan felt full. She welcomed the swelling in her breasts, the achy feeling of need, the urge to arch upward, to take him deeper inside her, to keep him there and take his seed.

She arched her hips slightly, but it was enough. He grasped her buttocks and angled her for his thrust. His mouth sought hers gently, and his tongue mimed the slow, steady movements below.

She was on fire. Her pulse raced, and she felt her heart beating crazily. Her breath came in short spurts. He kept his thrusts slow, building the tension, building the pressure.

“Cruz, I need… more.”